Feathers and Verse
by Sue Dunham
Summary: Cloud seducing Genesis? Rated T for suggestive themes and wing touching. Sephiroth wants what is best for Genesis.


Step, step, depress door lever, push, unholy screech. Step, step. His footsteps sound out loudly against the floor of the training room. The room wasn't supposed to be empty.

"Hello?" His voice sounds small. He hates it. He continues anyway. "Can someone help me? I'm looking for... my class." His voice trails away. It's silly to keep talking if no one is there. It hadn't taken him that long to get here though.

He brushes his hand through his unmanageable blonde hair. There was supposed to be...

"Can I help you?" the voice is melodic but strained. It comes from directly above him. He nearly leaps out of his skin.

"Uh..." His head is tipped back as far as it will go. He has seen the man hovering above him before. He has never seen the wing. The guy wears a lot of red. Cloud had been told the man's name was Genesis.

'I was just looking..."

"For your class, I heard." The winged figure is descending to stand next him. He is suddenly uncomfortable. There is something wrong with Genesis' voice.

"I'm Cloud." Genesis' cheeks are damp. "I –are you crying?" He can feel his voice go suddenly soft. It isn't quite as annoying this time.

"I –yes." Genesis is tall and proud. He doesn't even bother to wipe his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, is there anything I can do to help?" He makes his voice small again. He doesn't have to, but the other man might appreciate it.

Genesis smiles slightly. "I think not, however you were looking..?"

"Oh!" He's actually startled. "Yes! For my class, I came here and... and I guess I'm lost." He's blushing, he can feel it. It doesn't surprise him. It happens all the time. He hates that too.

The other man's cheeks are drying and he is looking at Cloud intently. "Perhaps an exchange of services then? I may have spoken with undue haste when I said there was nothing you could do to help me."

"Ah." His hand is in his hair. He's really nervous. This had been a bad idea. A bad, bad idea. He stares at the observation window looking for advice. The window is frustratingly unhelpful. He realises a superior officer is calmly waiting for him to answer.

"Yes, alright. That would be...ah, I don't want to interrupt you or anything. I could... what did you want me to do?"

Genesis tosses his head back. To Cloud it looks like he is casting about for an appropriate response.

"My wing has been causing me some distress. It is a thing most difficult to groom on my own. If you have a few moments to spare..?"

Cloud doesn't know what to do. He can't say _no_. He just nods dumbly staring at Genesis.

Genesis waits, staring back at him. He finally seems to realise that that is all he is going to get out of Cloud. He turns and heads for one of the benches positioned around the periphery of the room. Cloud follows him like he is magnetic. He might be. It almost feels like Genesis is pulling him.

Genesis sits on the bench. It is rather plain; wooden, which is surprising for ShinRa. Its high glossy shine is badly scuffed and it doesn't look exceptionally sturdy. There is no back. Cloud circles around behind Genesis. He can breathe easier if the man isn't looking at him.

'You know my name?" Genesis enquires.

"Genesis." It's an immediate response. He can't tell if it is something he is supposed to know or not. He shifts uncomfortably from one leg to the other. At least he can't see his face.

"They talk about us then? The cadets, the recruits, the instructors?"

Cloud leaps on this handy reasoning. "Everyone talks about you. You are SOLDIER." He was one of the three individuals who embodied and epitomized everything SOLDIER was about.

Cloud stands there. The silence stretches. Genesis' wing glides back and forth through the air. Cloud can feel the heat it radiates without even touching it. The feathers do look ruffled. Some are bunched and bent, other poke out at odd angles. He runs his finger along one that is pointing nearly straight up. Genesis gasps. Cloud snatches his hand back.

"Sorry."

"Don't be, some are simply more sensitive than others. Straighten them as best you can. Some will need to be pulled and others may fall out as you go. Do not worry, I don't think you can hurt me, but I will tell you if you do."

Cloud rests his hand on the wing again, testing. Nothing happens so he ghosts his way out to the far end where the feather are longer and fewer. The wing really is very warm and soft. It smells downy and has the most breathtaking range of motion.

Cloud has groomed Chocobos before. If he concentrates very hard, he can convince himself this is the same thing. He works just as hard at ignoring the mewling, pitiful creature he must have seemed to Genesis. Sometimes he really hates himself.

The other cadets for the most part annoy him. He's always been small, so he's a natural target for their bullying. That had died away when they had discovered they couldn't cow him. It helped that in a fist fight, he could give nearly as good as he got. His immediate superiors didn't strike him as the brightest crayons in the box and he mostly endured them without complaint. Unfortunately there were individuals, almost anyone involved in the SOLDIER program in any way that could still cause him to stammer and blush and wish that ShinRa were littered with convenient bolt holes. He told himself it would be like that for anyone looking at their life's dream.

Genesis is making small noises and they pull him back to the present. His hands had worked methodically while his thoughts were preoccupied, but now he is aware of what he is touching again. Technically of _whom_ he is touching. His hands still. He is mortified at the thought that he might be hurting Genesis.

Genesis quietly sighs. His wing arches out and resettles under Cloud's hands again. "Continue, please. You have done nothing wrong."

Cloud goes back to his grooming. The feathers are soot coloured. They start out nearly white where they connect with the wing itself and fade through gray to be nearly black by the tip. It makes it easier to see where they need to lie. He un-spins and flattens and carefully rearranges all those misplaced. Every now and then a feather cascades past him and settles gently onto the floor. Cloud has already stuffed one into the pocket of his trousers. They will need a broom by the time he is done here.

Genesis' back and shoulders are rigidly straight. His neck looks strained and he is making small noises in his throat again.

Cloud drops his hand to inform Genesis that he won't continue if this is hurting him. In the process it glides softly but swiftly down the body of the wing. The bench squeaks when Genesis jerks and gasps. Cloud is startled. It isn't _pain_ he's causing Genesis, quite the opposite.

Cloud has never been so suddenly uncomfortable. He can't _stop_. What the hell is he going to do? He desperately wracks his brain for all the things he knows about Genesis or anything that would interest a SOLDIER. He needs a distraction and he needs it now.

"Approach on soft feet golden child of morrow." The words spill from his lips. Genesis gasps. Oh gods! Why had he said that? Why did he have to say anything? _Shit._ Maybe he could just stop?

"What?" The voice is intrigued.

No such luck. Cloud sighs and buries his fingers in Genesis' wing. Genesis sort of..._wriggles._ He coughs, but not quickly enough for Cloud to miss the moan. So he starts again, anything is better than _that._

"Approach on soft feet golden child of morrow,

Upon the stark red warrior in lair,

Direction to seek, step in uncommon care,

Tread light on wing'd angels sorrow,

Destine acquired, why hesitate the arrow?

A request fulfill'd, a task to bear,

The crimson man is a creature most ware,

Softly, softly so as not to harrow,"

Cloud pauses. He never does things like that. Poetry isn't a very highly recognised art in ShinRa or anywhere else Cloud has ever been. It is also incredibly difficult for him to maintain the rhyme scheme in his head.

Genesis sits very still... Too still? Maybe he should have kept it to himself. Genesis does like poetry though. Maybe he is just waiting for Cloud to finish it? He has only spoken the first half of a typical sonnet. _Shit_. Genesis is a poet. He would know that. That was why Cloud opened his big mouth in the first place. He hurries to try and finish it.

Genesis speaks in his stead. He flawlessly picks up the path the first half had begun.

"Warrior need not golden child denied,

To ease scarlet suffering, help in hand,

A poet most woeful, trapp'd in world drear,

Longs for a piece of morrow at his side,

Bereft of dawn the angel lone must stand."

Genesis pauses. It isn't done. Maybe he can't finish it? Is he going to feel awkward if Cloud is standing there while he fails to come up with an ending? Genesis appeared to be mulling it over deeply. Cloud hopes that means he is thinking too hard to notice him anymore.

Genesis finally appears to make up his mind. Cloud has managed to travel most of the distance of the man's wing. His fingers are practically resting against Genesis' _actual body_ when he speaks the ending he has constructed. Cloud can feel the words move under his skin.

"Solace gifts the gilt soul, he belongs near."

Cloud sighs in relief. The awkward poetry session is finished and his grooming of the wing is nearly done. He runs his hand against the silvery expanse to make sure everything sits as it should and Genesis shoots to his feet.

Why, _why_ had he done that?

Genesis turns to face him and there is colour high in his cheeks.

"You think I've a thing for red?"

"Do you?" Cloud is called out. His painful attempt at poetry wasn't obscure enough to go unnoticed.

"You know your cheeks would certainly qualify." Genesis says. Cloud isn't surprised. "You called me an angel." Genesis almost makes it a question.

"You have a wing." Cloud's cheeks must be so far beyond pink now. He can feel the blush heating his cheeks. He feels defensive.

Genesis looks at him archly, hungrily. "You made that up yourself." His voice is controlled. To Cloud it sounds like an accusation. Of course he made it up himself. Real poetry sounds... better. A little like Genesis' part.

"That bad huh? Well you finished it, I didn't force you." He is trying to sound flippant. He can't tell if he is succeeding or not. Time to beat a hasty retreat, something he should have done when this whole mess started. "So umm, you look all patted down again. I got to be on my way."

"Does the golden child find the red angel displeasing?" It's a bold question, but why would Genesis, SOLDIER first-class, have any reason to hesitate in front of Cloud Strife, no name infantryman?

_Survive, Evade, Resist, Extract. "_No..no, but the child of the morrow has duties and propriety and tomorrow to think about."

Genesis' face is intent and calculating. His eyes follow Cloud.

"There is no hurry only joy,

For you are beloved by the goddess,

Hero of the dawn, healer of worlds."

"Loveless," he responds. "And you are misquoting. That's cheating." Did he just call Genesis a cheat? "Besides," he rushes on, "I don't think I'll, 'lose my dreams on the morrow,' I'll probably have to rise early to run all the laps they are going to assign me though."

He is drawing on what he remembers of the verse that follows Genesis'.

"And I um, like your wing; it would be a shame to have it lost." He hopes his interpretation of the verse is accurate. Cloud thinks the conversation is getting easier. He doesn't know if that is good or bad.

He is leaving. If he hurries he can get to the door before his cheeks melt off his face.

"What a delightful treasure you are. Where have they been hiding you?"

"Weapons training, field training... eugh latrine duty." He is walking backwards towards the door. It would be impolite otherwise. He thinks it must make him look like a servant bowing out of a King's court. "Look, if I don't go, you likely won't recognise this, 'child of the morrow,' when that time comes. I'll be covered in so much grime and way too exhausted to call out regardless.

His back slams into the gymnasium door. Genesis hasn't moved, but he hasn't broken eye contact either.

Cloud flees.

Step, Step. Run.

* * *

_**Before**_--

Sephiroth watched from the observation window as yet another tiny, pretty, nearly perfect cadet retreated from the training room.

Genesis Rhapsodos stood in the exact centre of the chamber arm raised dramatically. When the doors to the gymnasium clanged harshly shut in the Cadet's hurry to leave, the arm dropped. The momentary flicker of pain across his friends face made Sephiroth grit his teeth. He could feel his own countenance harden.

"You know I'm not anything like what he's looking for?" The voice was appropriately soft, small but masculine. It sounded right. The man it belonged to had the right look as well, almost frail in appearance, petite, nearly effeminate, soft. He was having a much easier time speaking to him now that they weren't facing each other.

"Won't this hurt him?"

Sephiroth was momentarily shocked. No, the cadet was right. He wasn't anything like the boys Genesis had been choosing for himself. He was rougher than they, hardened in imperceptible ways, a steel bar under silken wrappings. Kind. Sephiroth wondered if he could recall the last time he had met someone truly kind. The air of melancholy about the cadet would also please Genesis.

"There is always pain caused to those we love." The cadet shifted restlessly growing uncomfortable. "But no, abate your worry. There is nothing of shame in this. I have a friend in need and you are my solution. Should you fail I have other tactics to employ. There are further resources at my disposal."

"Shouldn't you start there first?" The cadet finally moved. In all the time they had spent in the small observation room he had never once approached the window. "Something like this could cause a great deal of pain." He was resting his fingers on the glass now, peering down at Genesis for the first time. He actually made sense when he spoke, now that he wasn't stuttering constantly.

Did he think Sephiroth didn't _know_ that? He and Genesis were friends. Sephiroth only wanted the best for him. Surely Genesis would understand and forgive him if this played out poorly.

Sephiroth was certain he had already addressed this issue. "There is no need for there to be pain between us." He was referring to himself and Genesis. "If this doesn't work out satisfactorily, I will explain my reasoning to Genesis and he will forgive me."

"I'm not... like them." The blonde cadet sounded almost resentful. If the boy didn't think he could pull it off, Sephiroth wished he would simply say so and let him move on. "I will try general, but this had better not..." His voice trailed away. He must have realised whom he was attempting to censure.

* * *

_**After**_--

"You left." It was a cold accusation. Sephiroth had watched the blushing, stuttering cadet flee the room like so many others had. He had thought things were going well.

The cadet just stared at him wide-eyed. He blinked and blushed and his mouth moved without sound.

"How long was I supposed to stay there?" The voice was high and strained. Sephiroth usually responded to panic like that by killing something. The cadet wheeled around and stared hard at the plaques on the wall. "Look Sir, he knows my name, he knows I live here. If he wants... wants to come find me, I won't turn him away."

His voice made the most amazing transitions from gasping awe, to dazed bewilderment. It coasted all the way around to exasperation and finally pinged off confused sincerity.

"Look, I did you a favour."

Sephiroth actually hesitated. It always came back to this. "Ah, and you want something." His voice was dry, chilling, flat.

"No! Well, maybe yes." There was a significant pause and then, "just don't, er _please_ don't ask me to do... stuff, things... anything like this again. He ended on an impressively final sounding note. "Ah, General Sir."

Sephiroth actually smiled. The cadet saluted. He saluted the wall, but Sephiroth wasn't picky. He only had one final question.

"The poetry?"

"I led a fairly solitary childhood, it left a lot of time for books and daydreaming. My mother liked the play he quoted from." The cadet hadn't blushed or stammered. Would wonders never cease?

* * *

NOTE:

Loveless Act 3

There is no hate, only joy  
For you are beloved by the goddess  
Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds

Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul  
Pride is lost  
Wings stripped away, the end is nigh

This is the passage Genesis and Cloud are referring to. (borrowed from: www dot finalfantasy dot wikia dot com/wiki/LOVELESS

* * *

Self-edited. So if you see a mistake tell me to fix it :)

Also- Cloud's perspective is in present tense. Sephiroth's isn't. If this doesn't work out I can change it.

If I have made any tense errors or errors of any kind let me know.

I accept all kinds of criticism, promise, I can take it. (Unless you are going to tell me you don't like Genesis or sephiroth or ff7- I can't fix that)

Thank you for sharing with me.


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